


you can ebb and i can flow (and we’ll take it slow)

by deandratb



Category: Single Parents (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb
Summary: Will borrows Angie's shirt by accident. Angie borrows his on purpose. Fluff that could fit in and around canon, while they're still in that not-talking-about-it phase.





	you can ebb and i can flow (and we’ll take it slow)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snookolive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snookolive/gifts).

> This one's for Amy, who always has ideas when I don't, appreciates flannel, and is just generally a fave of mine.

After the last of the wedding stragglers left--it was them, of course, just the five of them in the Winebrary reluctant to begin their childless summers--Poppy closed the shop for the night. 

“You wanna go back up and look at the stars some more?”

Angie was comfortably tipsy, leaning on Will a little as they walked to his car. She blamed the party buzz for the extra time it took her to realize she’d left her coat inside. 

_How did she leave wearing a chicken hat but forget her coat? One day without Graham and she was already losing her mind._

“Sure,” Will agreed. “Hey, where are you--”

Angie froze a few feet away from his car, then gestured toward Poppy’s business. “I left my coat in there, and now I can’t go get it.”

“Because...”

“Because Poppy and Douglas are still **in **there, and now they’re in there alone, and it’s probably weird because it was Ron’s wedding but this is like...their first date. I don’t want to interrupt that. I want to stay out of that.”

“Okay, but you also said you want to hang out under the stars. It’s going to be chilly up there, Angie. It’s nighttime.”

“What am I, five? I’ll be fine. Let’s just go.”

“Do I have to remind you that I am an actual weatherman on KZOP?”

“Never,” Angie muttered, while Will continued talking over her. “You never have to remind me. Please stop reminding me.”

“I would be remiss if I did not point out that you’re looking at lows of sixty-two degrees tonight, and it will feel even colder up there because of the wind.”

“It gets cold when the sun goes down. Got it. Come on, Will!”

The drive wasn’t long, and the spot overlooking LA was peaceful, especially without the rustling of Ratso’s drive through bags. Angie gave up looking for a comfortable position on the hood of Will’s car and laid down flat, staring up at the stars. 

It would probably make her dizzy from that angle if she were still tipsy, but instead it was nice. 

Will didn’t waste time like she did, laying half on his side so he could see both the stars and her, as though he were waiting for her to speak.

Which she did, so maybe that wasn’t surprising.

“That was weird, huh?” 

“What?”

“The wedding.”

“Because it was at a Winebrary, or because they’re taking Rory on the honeymoon?”

“Yeah, both. But no, I meant, it was weird being at their wedding when we barely know them. Weddings are weird enough when you care about the bride or the groom, but Ron’s just...that guy Poppy’s better off without, and I don’t even know his fiance.”

“I guess that was weird.” Will was quiet for a minute. “I thought you were gonna say Douglas and Poppy getting together.”

“Oh, that. Nah, I knew about that. I told you--well, I sort of did.”

“You did not.”

“I did too! You wanted to know who she was dating, and I almost told you about Douglas. But I didn’t, I thought it wasn’t happening.”

“Right, right. I remember.” Will shifted onto his back, his shoulder touching hers.

“It’s not that weird, is it? Them together? I think they’re kind of cute. I want Poppy to be happy.”

“Me too,” he agreed. “They’re just...so different. Y’know? Their politics, their parenting styles, he’s like twice as tall as she is.”

“Well, we all have different politics. And parenting styles. I think it’s good, we bring our own stuff to the table and meet in the middle. It makes us better.”

“Yeah, as a modern village.”

Angie elbowed him for using that word. _He’d expected worse._

“But we’re not dating.”

Will’s words lingered in the air before he heard how they sounded and rushed to overcorrect.

“The five of us, I mean! All of us, parents. Not you and me. Our whole...tribe.”

He wasn’t sure how much of a difference there really was between _tribe _and _village,_ but Angie didn’t say anything about what a nerd he was.

She sat up instead, rubbing her arms. “Your car does not make a warm hangout spot, man, I gotta say.”

“Cold?”

“A little.”

“I tried to tell you. You had a perfectly good coat!”

Angie sighed, her reluctant words pulled from deep down. “Yes, I admit it, you were right.”

“Wow. That must have been hard for you.”

“Shut up.”

Will covered his laugh with a cough. “Next time, will you listen to my weather advice?”

“Probably not. Give me your shirt.”

He sat up, torn between startled and offended. “No!”

“You’ve got three layers on, Will, including that flannel, and I am sitting in the dark and windy Los Angeles night, wearing just this one long-sleeved shirt. Are you **really **going to be so selfish as to leave me shivering here? What happened to chivalry? What happened to friendship?”

“What happened to the jacket you could’ve brought with you?” Will retorted. 

He was already shrugging his coat off. 

****

“Morning!”

Angie flinched in the doorway and responded with a hand gesture that frankly, Will found both rude and unnecessary. But he knew her well enough to know all she meant by it was _‘take it down a notch please.’ _

He patted her on the shoulder as he entered, a silent apology. 

“How’s Graham?”

“Whiny.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. It sucks to be sick at his age.”

“It sucks to be sick in general,” Angie countered. “It sucks to be his **mom** when he’s sick at this age.”

She looked better than she had two days ago when he came by to help with the laundry and some food prep. She was wearing normal clothes today, and managed to brush her hair. 

Despite the D’Amato family’s collective whining--that thought made him smile a little--Will gave them three more days before Graham was back in the carpool. 

“I brought the forms you need to fill out, and I can watch him for a couple hours if you want a break. Get some fresh air, maybe buy your own groceries? Whatever helps.”

“Awesome.”

Angie took a deep breath, sighed it back out. When she opened her eyes, she narrowed them at Will.

_Graham might be on the mend, but she was clearly off her game if it took her this long to notice._

“Will Cooper, what are you wearing?”

He snuck a look down before he answered, hit with the sudden inexplicable worry that maybe he forgot pants. 

_Nope, fully dressed from head to toe. _

“Clothes?” 

Angie’s reply held as much patience as she could manage at 8 a.m. on day five of having Graham home sick. It was the same voice she’d directed at Graham when he wanted to make his own breakfast before Will showed up. 

“Yes, but **whose** clothes?”

Frowning, Will checked more thoroughly this time. Shoes, socks, pants, shirt, flannel. _Whose clothes,_ he scoffed silently. He was wearing them, wasn’t he? He’d sorted the laundry himself. 

“Angie, what are you talking about? I’m wearing my clothes. These are men’s clothes!” 

_It had been a rough week for her,_ he thought, not without sympathy. She was barely sleeping with Graham awake all night. Anybody could have an off day. Why that off day needed to include mocking his wardrobe was beyond him--but this was Angie. That wasn’t exactly unusual for her.

“Close,” she said. “Those are **almost** men’s clothes. That flannel shirt is mine.”

“I-it’s--” Will sputtered long enough to feel ridiculous, then gave up. It was an easy thing to check. 

Angie bit down on what she was thinking while he pulled off the flannel and reached for the tag.

Will only looked mildly defeated as he handed it over. 

“Okay, so I was wearing a women’s XL. Big deal. I’m very secure in my masculinity.”

“Sure you are. You still stole my shirt.”

“I didn’t steal it! I borrowed it, accidentally. And only because I did your laundry, you know.”

Through the heavy exhaustion of the last week, and the amusement that was brightening her morning, Angie finally cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know. Did I remember to thank you for that?”

“No, you did not.”

“Well, thanks.”

She made a face as she pulled the shirt on over her sick-day outfit. “Jeez, it’s so warm!”

“Nobody said you had to put it on. Wear one of your twenty other flannel shirts.”

Angie frowned. “No. It’s kinda nice once you get used to it.”

There was a beat of silence while Will looked at Angie looking at him, wearing the shirt that he’d been pretty happy thinking was his five minutes ago.

_That was happening more this year--the silence, not just Will losing his shirts. _

Angie broke first. 

“Want to stay for breakfast?” 

“Hey, like I said, you’ve got me for two hours. If you want to spend that time making me breakfast instead of enjoying a world free of vomiting, that is your prerogative.”

“Eh, I can go out after breakfast.” She sat down and crossed her arms. “Which I never said I would cook.”

“Fine, I’ll make breakfast. Did Graham eat yet?”

“Not yet. He might be able to handle some toast.”

“Gotcha.” Will started pulling things out of her cupboards. “Toast and...waffles?” 

Angie hugged her red flannel a little tighter._ It was like fresh out of the dryer. Cozy._

“Waffles would be good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "Grow As We Go" by Ben Platt.


End file.
